


Cruel To Be Kind

by FanficsbyVe



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look inside the mind of Lautrec the Embraced as he ends a Fire Keeper's life. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel To Be Kind

**Author's Note:**

> This is an attempt to write something about Lautrec, everyone's favorite psycho in Dark Souls.

_“Kill her.”_

He can almost hear her say those words. His beloved Fina, the goddess who he has dedicated his life to. Even though she is no longer there, he swears he can hear her whisper. He knows her well and as such, he also knows her will.

Lautrec of Carim goes by many names. The Sinner. The Guilty. The Embraced. All of those are true. There is no point denying what he has become. Soon, it won’t even matter anymore.

He stares at the Fire Keeper sitting across him behind the bars. She has served him well since he came here. She provided him with and reinforced estus flasks whenever he asked, giving him an edge in surviving this hostile, crumbling world. Such is the task of all Fire Keepers, but he knows their function comes at a terrible price.

_"She is suffering."_

Fire Keepers are some of the cruelest inventions of the Gods. Young women forced to act as human representations of the Bonfires. Their bodies are slowly torn apart by humanity, eating them from the inside out. Every day, they live with the agony until finally, they are naught but the humanity they house. It is a cruel, slow death, one that even someone like himself would not wish upon anyone.

Especially not the woman in the cage. He has killed Fire Keepers before, with the dual goal of obtaining their humanity as well as releasing them from their fate. Still, she is different from the others and it will be far harder for him to carry out his task.

Her name is Anastacia. 

He knows this because he knew her, once in what seems like another lifetime. He had been very young then; an optimistic, wide-eyed squire in his late teens traveling with the knight who had taken him into his service. They had traveled to Astora and stayed at a small village near a prominent burg. 

He had met her there at the local inn. She was the daughter of the innkeepers. A spontaneous, friendly little girl with the biggest smile he had ever seen. She had been sweet and trusting, evidenced by the fact she even approached him even though he already, in the words of his mentor, had the mug of a hellhound. Back then, he had appreciated the friendliness and he had been kind to her unlike the many indifferent patrons who just told her to go away.

He had played with her for a bit as she seemed bored, trying to teach her cards. It had amused him that she had been quick study despite her young age. In fact, she could keep a straight face better than most of the grown men at the inn. It had been a pleasant, light-hearted lull in a life of constant traveling and battle, which, he figures now, is why he still even bothers to recall it.

It was only later that night when he realized something was off about her and her family. He had spied her and her mother about in the woods later that night, when he could not sleep and figured the fresh air would do him good. They had been practicing strange magic and miracles he had never seen before and were definitely not associated with either the Dragon Schools in Vinheim or the Way of White.

As a loyal squire and aspiring knight, it had been his duty to report them to authorities. In the lands of Lordran, no apostate witch or sorcerer was allowed to walk free. Still, he had refrained from it back then. Both the girl and her mother had been kind to him and the villagers, while oblivious to their practices, spoke highly of them. They did not deserve torture or death for differing beliefs, especially not that sweet little girl who didn’t yet understand anything about this harsh, unfair world. As such, he had remained silent and put the incident out of his mind. 

Until a few days ago, when he found her here. He had recognized her instantly, despite the many years that had passed. He doubted he still had it in him to feel sad, but when he looked upon her, he did feel an overwhelmingly nauseating sensation settling in his stomach.

He didn’t need to wonder what had happened to her. One look at her was enough to surmise it. Her tongue had been cut out and her feet irreversibly maimed. This task was her punishment for a life different from others and here, she was to remain until her life would finally fade away and she’d be replaced by another.

She didn’t recognize him when he approached her. That made sense to him. Their previous meeting had only been brief, easily forgotten by the mind of a carefree child. Still, to see that smile he remembered gone, replaced by lifeless eyes and a perpetually pained expression was a bitter thing to behold.

_“Heretic or not, no being capable of love would do this to another.”_

That’s what Fina would have said. How she would have viewed this kind of situation. There is a reason she was banished from Lordran long ago, along with Velka and several others. Gwyn, proud as he is, does not tolerate dissent especially not from others who would point out his faults. He wants his Age of Fire to persist, no matter how many lives it costs.

He looks over at the Fire Keeper. Every day he sits here, she looks more morose and tormented. He wonders how long she will endure, gnawed by humanity like a piece of carrion. Slowly dying while trapped and forced to keep a Bonfire alight with her own soul, likely the only choice she had other than torture and execution. She must remain here, possibly for another eternity, until nothing of her remains.

_“Let her die as herself. Don’t leave her like this. Let her go with dignity.”_

That thought, that twisted logic of mercy, is what finally stirs him to move. He gets up and takes out one of his curved swords. He’s done this many times before now and while the motions become easier, he knows this is another sin on his hands. He approaches slowly, bracing himself for what he is about to commit to.

Anastacia tries to scream as he grabs hold of her through the bars, but her lack of a tongue keeps her from making sound. At this point, she is too weak to struggle as he drags her towards him and digging in her mangled feet hurts immensely. He can see tears well up in her eyes and he swears he can understand that she's begging him, perhaps not to kill her before her task is done. 

Her death is quick and relatively painless. Decapitation, in any case, is more humane than the other options. Within seconds, life has left her and soon after, the Bonfire behind her fades out. 

Lautrec places the head back against the fallen body, wordlessly whispering the final rites of his goddess as he does. The least he can do, he figures, is leave her corpse in a respectful manner after taking her life this way. He then reaches out to take the soul that wells up from her body, snatching it as he gets up and steps back. 

He looks over the scene. There is little honor in killing a helpless Fire Keeper, but he is no longer the knight he once was. Chivalry is meaningless in this world. Especially if it perpetuates the horrors someone like Anastacia suffered. Is he truly the worse sinner for murdering her swiftly rather than leaving her to rot? Perhaps, but the good and bad have lost their meaning as the end draws near.

His eyes are drawn towards the soul in his hands. There is a beautiful brightness about it, like a luminescent flower. It’s rife with humanity, enough to tide him over for a long time. A plentiful bounty from a single mercy killing. About the best he can hope for in these times.

Soon, he will consume it. Feed off the raw humanity inside of it. Stave off hollowing just a little longer, so he can continue to do Fina’s will. That has always been the objective. Nothing else matters anymore.

But not now. He’s not yet ready for that. Not yet willing to mindlessly consume the soul of an innocent person he once knew. He almost feels a wry smile etch into his face at that thought. Perhaps he still has something of a heart left after all. Not that it will matter in the end.

Sooner or later, this Age of Fire will end. The Gods already left this place and left the humans among the ruins. Fina is not coming back and all he can do is heed her last wishes as he waits for the Age of Dark to begin. 

For a moment, he envies the soul he holds in his hands. Anastacia doesn’t have to suffer anymore. She has passed from this wretched place and when her soul is gone, she can perhaps find peace beyond this world. 

He will likely not be as lucky. Hollowing is all but inevitable, even for those who love the Gods, and consuming humanity only temporarily holds back the tide. The knight grimaces, for once acknowledging the bitter truth he tries to avoid. He will die eventually and when he does, he will die alone with nothing but his sins for company.


End file.
